


(it really fucks me up that) you never said goodbye

by MotherKarizma



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Oneshot, Past Character Death, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Peter Parker, References to Depression, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22614547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherKarizma/pseuds/MotherKarizma
Summary: It's not like Peter is paranoid.He knows what he sees when he sees it, knows the implications of Tony's tired eyes and weakened smiles, knows the secret words that rest nicely behind his teeth and keep themselves quiet as they decay. Peter has seen this, felt this, maybe not firsthand but damn close enough, and though he loathes to admit it, he knows he's seeing it all over again. Same shit, different parental figure. The only difference is that, this time around, the curtain has been pulled back. This time, he knows exactly what kind of monster they're facing. He knows this demon by name.It's not like Peter is paranoid. He knows what he sees when he sees it.He just doesn't have a clue what the fuck he's supposed to do about it.-----Or: Peter has been lying to Tony. Uncle Ben really was killed via gunshot - but not by a mugger.
Relationships: Ben Parker & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 35
Kudos: 468





	(it really fucks me up that) you never said goodbye

It begins like this: Tony stumbles into the lab, trips over a chair and nearly faceplants, then has the nerve to smile at Peter with those purple rings beneath his eyes like nothing is wrong. Like Peter is too young, too naive, too whatever to see it, to know.

(It _really_ begins like this: the gunshot is deafening, nothing like it is in the movies. Peter is halfway up the stairs to the apartment and he freezes, backpack slung over his shoulder, hands trembling, ears ringing oh God oh _God_ –)

"Are you okay?" Peter asks, eyes narrowed, knuckles white around the pen hovered above his notes.

Tony waves him off. "Me? Of course. Are you changing your web formula?"

He glances over Peter's shoulder as he passes by, uses what he sees to change the subject abruptly. And, of course, Peter can't call him out on it, because then he'll seem like the strange one. So instead he shrugs, mumbles an aloof, "Maybe," and looks away.

* * *

It's not like Peter is paranoid.

He knows what he sees when he sees it, knows the implications of Tony's tired eyes and weakened smiles, knows the secret words that rest nicely behind his teeth and keep themselves quiet as they decay. Peter has seen this, felt this, maybe not firsthand but damn close enough, and though he loathes to admit it, he knows he's seeing it all over again. Same shit, different parental figure. The only difference is that, this time around, the curtain has been pulled back. This time, he knows exactly what kind of monster they're facing. He knows this demon by name.

It's not like Peter is paranoid. He knows what he sees when he sees it.

He just doesn't have a clue what the fuck he's supposed to do about it.

* * *

"He's just...I don't know, man. He hasn't been himself."

Peter rubs the back of his neck. His face flushes red and he stares pointedly at the cafeteria table, suddenly feeling out of line, like this isn't his to share.

Ned says, "Maybe you should talk to him about it."

Brilliant. A fantastic suggestion. Why didn't he think of that? Except, "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I _can't_."

Because he doesn't want Tony to know the truth. Doesn't want to explain how he _knows_ and _sees_ or why he's looking for it in the first place. Doesn't feel like speaking into existence his ever-allusive search for the monster that tore his family apart, his need to eradicate it at any cost, his bloodthirst, his _hunger_ for this creature's complete and utter destruction.

Peter says none of this aloud and he doesn't have to. Ned nods, a wince of sympathy flashing over his face.

"I get it," he says kindly. Peter nods, grateful.

He goes home with the weight of the world balanced on his shoulders.

* * *

He wakes up screaming.

The nightmare catches and sinks in somewhere between old reality (he hides under the stairwell _, nine-one-one what is your emergency,_ and whisper-gasp-sobs into the phone, _someone has a gun I heard a gun there's a gun gun gun_ ) and new fiction (there Tony is, in the lab, slumped over a table, eyes wide open and unseeing, cold and lifeless with weeping gashes where the demon carved its way out of his heart-thumping chest). Peter isn't sure whether the universe means this combination as a somber reminder or a flagged-red warning.

May, of course, is there in a heartbeat. She bursts into his room with wild eyes, ready to fight whatever or whoever has dared to harm him, and ends up rocking a hysterical Peter in her arms.

"What was it about?" She asks when he's calm. "You can talk to me, baby."

He can't. He really, truly can't. "Homecoming."

She clicks her tongue in sympathy, and Peter, though guilty, is thankful she bought the lie. It's easier to say he is scared of being crushed by another building than that he's scared of being abandoned again (and again, and again, and again). Easier to tell her he's afraid some obscure, mildly scary thing might happen than to face the scariest thing either of them have ever known to exist and tell her, _it's back_.

"Do you want to stay home from the Compound this weekend?" May asks. She presses a kiss against his hairline, rubs his arms. "Is all this training stressing you out? You can take a break if you need to, sweetheart. I'm sure Tony would understand."

Peter shakes his head. "It helps. The training, I mean. Like...catharsis, or whatever."

He can see the hesitance in May's eyes, but she doesn't argue with him. Peter exhales shakily. Skipping his weekend training – skipping his time with Tony – is not an option. Not this week.

He has a monster to slay.

* * *

Like every Friday afternoon, Happy is waiting for him outside the school.

"You look like shit," the man says without preamble when Peter drops like a rock into the backseat.

Peter rolls his eyes. "Thanks."

Happy hesitates, uncharacteristically concerned when he glances at him through the rearview mirror.

"You need food? Sleep? You can sleep if you want. Just don't drool on my seats."

"I'm not tired," Peter lies. "Just...been a long week."

For once, Peter is glad to be around somebody who isn't much for talking. Happy shrugs and flips his sunglasses on.

"Buckle up," he says as he starts the car.

* * *

"Are you okay?"

This - _this_ is the first thing Tony says when Peter enters the Compound. It's so ironic, a humorless laugh bubbles up his throat and out of his mouth in response. Peter makes no attempt to contain it. Tony's frown deepens.

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I, uh - I was actually gonna...ask you the same thing."

Peter sees the deflection before he hears it, watches closely as Tony's eyes flicker and his walls go up. When Tony says, "Always," in a way so breezy and self-convinced that it can't possibly be the truth, every muscle in Peter’s body tenses. He feels the floodgates buckling, threatening to topple.

It's not like Peter is paranoid, because he's _not_. He knows what he sees when he sees it.

He knows. He knows. He knows.

* * *

(It ends like this: amongst the commotion of police and paramedics and curious onlookers, Peter emerges from his hiding spot and races up the stairs, suddenly ashamed to realize he has these new superhuman powers and he didn’t even attempt to use them. He pushes past people, saying, _I live here,_ the police try to hold him back, sorrow and pity in their eyes, _you_ _don’t need to see this, son,_ but he breaks out of their grip, _I live here._ And – and there. There he is. On the floor, on his back, eyes gazing cold and forever unseeing up at the ceiling, a bullet wound in the dead center of his forehead and a puddle of blood beneath him. Peter drops to his knees. _No_. Somebody takes his arms gently. _No, please_. They try to move him out back out of the apartment. _No, no, no._ The gun is cradled in Ben’s right palm, his fingers lifeless around it. Peter may be young, but he has never been stupid.

He knows what he sees when he sees it.)

* * *

It _really_ ends like this: Peter has a full-blown mental breakdown in the middle of the kitchen while they’re waiting for the pizza to arrive. Tony sinks to the linoleum right alongside him and holds him close, hands strong and promising as they rub his back.

“Please don’t kill yourself,” Peter sobs before he can stop himself. His fingers grapple at the back of Tony’s shirt, his fingers that are cold but so, _so_ very far from lifeless. “Please don’t, please.”

Tony freezes. His grip around Peter becomes crushing, but Peter has no complaints.

“Kid. Why in the ever-loving _fuck_ would I do that to you?”

“He did.” Peter exhales the demon – turns out he was the one holding onto it. “He did. I lied. Ben wasn’t – there was no mugger. He –“

And then, finally, somebody understands. Tony melts, unfreezes, and draws him impossibly closer. “Oh, Pete…”

“He never said goodbye.”

These are words Peter has never said aloud, not to May, not to his old therapist that they could only afford for three sessions, not to anyone. They have been rotting inside of him for nearly two years, and it isn’t until they’re out that Peter realizes how much space they’d been taking up in his heart, how heavily they’d been weighing him down.

“Peter Parker. I _promise_ , I won’t leave you like that. Wouldn’t leave you at all, if I could help it. I’ve had a…rough week, but I’m not – I’m not gonna kill myself.” He runs (warm, steady, full of _life_ ) fingers through Peter’s hair. “You’re stuck with me, kid.”

Ten minutes before, it would have been in Peter’s nature to be skeptical of that – Ben always said he was fine, too, right before, even though his eyes were tired and he already looked halfway dead.

But Peter is not paranoid, and he knows what he sees when he sees it. Tony makes him a promise, and Peter knows he’s not lying.

He knows.

**Author's Note:**

> the title of this fic was lovingly borrowed from [i prevail - goodbye (interlude)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zNoMnRonYQw)
> 
> thank you so much for taking the time to read my work! was there a specific line you liked, a paragraph that stood out to you, an emotion this made you feel? let me know in the comments below - reading them makes my day! if you'd like, you can find my mcu/fanfic/poetry blog on tumblr under this same username.
> 
> thanks!


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